


More Than What You Paid For

by withthekeyisking



Series: Sladick Fics [33]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Assassin Dick Grayson, Assassination Attempt(s), Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Sex Worker AU, Sex Worker Dick Grayson, Slade is so done, SladeRobin Week, Stabbing, he just wanted a fuck and now he has to deal with someone trying to kill him, those are two funny tags to put next to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/pseuds/withthekeyisking
Summary: Slade only wanted to scratch an itch after a very long and grueling job. He didn't expect to have to face an assassination attempt from a prostitute.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: Sladick Fics [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1307747
Comments: 52
Kudos: 337
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	More Than What You Paid For

**Author's Note:**

> SladeRobin Week 2020 Day 2: (After) the Bad Guys Win | **Sex Worker AU** | Merfolk
> 
> Ok so the idea for this fic used to be _very_ different, but while the concept was a bunch of fun, the actual writing Would Not Flow. I'm hopeful to go back to the idea some day, but for now I hope you enjoy this fic!

Slade sits down, rolling out a lingering crick in his neck from where someone tried to take his head off with their blade only four hours earlier. It's healed, for the most part, but the ache has lingered. He knows it'll be completely gone by morning, along with all the other pieces of his body that are complaining, but for now it's a definite annoyance.

Billy would probably tell him to go lie down, sleep off the shitshow of a job he just completed, but Slade already _tried_ that. He collapsed into bed in his safehouse, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to take him. Usually, it's not a problem. He spent so much of his life in the army that he can fall asleep practically anywhere.

But this time? Nothing. His brain wouldn't shut off, wouldn't let him ignore the buzzing under his skin.

He's fifty-four, he knows what it feels like to be horny. Just usually he has far better control over his body that he can ignore it until he actually _wants_ to deal with it. Like after he's gotten at least a solid six hours of sleep.

But, fine, if he needs a fuck to relax then _fine._ Wouldn't be the first time he's used sex to take the edge off, more than likely won't be the last.

Which brings him to this bar, trying to not feel like an old man as his neck cracks when he moves it. He's pretty sure old men have aching joints because of age and not because someone took a sword to their throat and tried to hack.

It was certainly an eventful job, that's for sure.

Slade scans the bar idly, taking a sip from whatever it is that he's ordered. Some kind of bourbon, he knows. Top shelf. Didn't care enough to specify past that, and it tastes pretty damn good to him.

There are a couple people eyeing him, some warily—even in civilian clothes, Slade knows he cuts an imposing figure—and some nearer to desire. He looks them over with an appraising eye, but his decision-making is cut short when someone appears at his side, leaning against the bar next to him.

He's pretty, Slade notes. Bright blue eyes, golden skin, sharp jawline. Wearing a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt that hug his body perfectly, showing off his ass and abs and the wiry muscles on his arms. Clearly works out, and takes pride in his appearance. Clearly trying to draw attention to his assets, going by the cut of the clothing and the way he's draped against the bar top.

Well, Slade's seen far less artful attempts at seduction before, often from people in the kid's clear profession. And the kid is attractive; Slade would love to see him on his back, moaning as he takes Slade's cock.

Slade's never had any problems paying for sex, and this certainly makes tonight's goal easier to achieve.

"Hi," the kid says with a charming smile. "I'm Dick, it's nice to meet you."

Slade snorts at the fake name. "Isn't that a bit on the nose? Couldn't come up with something better?"

'Dick' arches a brow, amusement creeping into his smile. "Pleasant coincidence, actually. My name is Richard, and I've gone by Dick since I was a kid. Though it is always a pleasure to see people like you get a kick out of it. What gave me away, by the way? Usually it takes people another minute or so to understand, maybe not even until the, ah, _specifics_ need to be discussed."

"Kid," Slade says, shaking his head, "there is nothing subtle about you right now."

"I could just be looking for a fuck."

Slade snorts again, enjoying the way the vulgarity rolls easily out of that pretty mouth. Slade's looking forward to making him scream it later.

"You could be," Slade agrees. "But you're not. So why don't we skip the theatrics and you tell me how much you cost, and then we can get out of here."

Dick glances him over quickly, and Slade knows he's probably appraising how much he could make off of Slade—taking in the expensive bourbon, the high quality clothes. Slade doesn't actually care about the number; it won't even make a _dent_ in the money he has in his wallet at the moment, let alone at his disposal.

"Nine hundred," Dick says smoothly, and Slade almost asks how much higher that is than his normal price, just for curiosity's sake.

Instead, Slade opens his wallet and pulls out the requested amount, enjoying the surprised blink the kid gives when he sees the wad of cash Slade has just sitting there. He recovers quickly, taking the money and sliding it into his pocket before straightening and offering Slade another charming smile.

"Shall we, then?"

Slade follows Dick across the street to the waiting motel. Convenient, that. The kid clearly picked his territory well.

Dick doesn't pause at reception, instead striding confidently down the hall and then unlocking a door, walking in first and holding it open for Slade. The room's nice, by city motel standards. No signs of vermin or bugs, and the sheets actually seem fresh. If Slade had to guess, the motel gets a cut of any Johns the prostitutes bring back here, and in exchange looks the other way and keeps a few rooms nice and clean for use.

"So," Dick says with a smile, leaning against the wall across from him, hips pressed up in the air just slightly, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans. "How do you want me?"

"Strip," Slade orders, and with a salacious smile the kid follows the instruction.

He makes a show of it, and Slade feels his cock begin to stir at the way Dick bends and curves, shedding his clothing piece by piece until he's naked in front of Slade, standing without an ounce of modesty or any signs of discomfort at the power disparity.

And then Slade has to pause, because the kid has _scars._

He knows the job the kid has can lead to some dangerous situations, but a majority of the scars are _years_ old, and Dick can't possibly be older than twenty-two. Normal people don't tend to have shit like that on their body.

When Slade looks back to Dick's face, the kid is watching him placidly, and simply cocks an eyebrow when their gazes meet. "You want to hear about how mean my daddy was, or do you want to fuck me?"

Ah. Slade glances the scars over again now that he has context, and then dismisses them, instead taking the opportunity to admire the kid's body.

He certainly is fit, lean muscles lining his entire body, and his hips sway appealingly as he walks across the room to stand in front of Slade. He reaches up, brushing one hand through Slade's hair, the other stroking slowly down his chest and then resting on the buckle of his belt.

"May I?" Dick purrs, and Slade nods.

Dick pulls his belt open, pushing up on his toes to kiss Slade deeply as he does so. He starts forceful, and then quickly lets Slade take command of the kiss, moving easily when Slade starts to walk him backwards towards the bed.

By the time he pushes Dick down onto it, the kid's gotten his pants open and his shirt unbuttoned, and Slade shucks them before climbing on top of him, dragging him into a bruising kiss by a tight handful of his hair. Dick moans and arches up against him, legs spreading and allowing Slade to slide between them, grinding against him and drawing another moan out of him.

There's lube and condoms on the bedside table, and Slade grabs them, popping open the bottle of lube and squirting some out onto his fingers.

Dick, in response, bends himself clean in half, folding his legs all the way up until his feet rest to either side of his head. He then grins at whatever Slade's expression must look like as he takes him in.

From there Slade wastes no time, inserting a finger into the kid's ass, humming at how tight he is. Dick rocks his hips up to meet each push, encouraging more, and then moans quietly when Slade shoves a second fingers in.

Alright, if the kid likes it rough, Slade is all too happy to oblige.

He jams his fingers in again and again, eye half-lidded as he watches Dick's face scrunch up in pleasure. He knows it's more than likely exaggerated, but going by the way the kid's cock bounces up against his stomach, he is at least turned on.

Slade rips open the condom packet with his teeth and then rolls it on one-handed, only pulling his fingers out of Dick's ass when he has his cock lined up, pushing himself all the way in as soon as his fingers are out.

The kid lets out a low groan, head tossed back, and Slade breathes out slowly. He's a vice grip around him, tight and burning hot, and he clings to Slade's cock as Slade slowly pulls out and then _fucks_ back in, snapping his hips.

Dick moans, louder this time, and lets his legs drop to instead wrap them around Slade's waist, tugging him impossibly closer. The kid reaches up and twists his hands into the sheets by his head, hips jerking to meet each of Slade's thrusts. He looks fucking stunning, pupils blown, cheeks flushed, lips red and spit-slick.

Slade leans down and sucks a hickey onto the underside of Dick's jaw, enjoying the high sound that pulls out of him, repeating the process down the length of his neck, worrying his teeth into the golden skin and leaving marks behind.

What happens next would definitely kill a regular man.

As it is, as soon as Slade feels the sharp metal piercing the skin of his throat, he's in motion, throwing himself to the side and bating aside the arm holding the blade.

Dick doesn't falter, spinning to follow, slashing out with the blade again. Gone is the lust-fueled haze over his eyes, the ecstasy pushing him to nothing more than incoherent moans. In their place is sharp focus, determination.

If Slade's reflexes were even _slightly_ slower than what they are, he'd be bleeding out from the jugular right now.

Of course, it wouldn't kill him, but it would definitely take him down for a solid minute if the gash was deep or wide enough, and in that time who knows what the little assassin would do to him.

Dick isn't deterred by the fact that his target is no longer oblivious, doesn't hesitate to fight to achieve his goal despite the fact that his original plan of killing Slade while he was distracted didn't work.

It's very hard to catch Slade off guard; he's almost impressed. No one's ever tried _this_ to kill him before. The kid gets points for originality.

He's skilled, very well trained. Clearly knows what Slade is, too, because the way he moves and strikes is clearly designed to account for Slade's enhanced strength and speed. The kid's almost inhumanly fast as well, actually, and Slade tries to determine if he's a meta or just very good at what he does.

He doesn't slow, despite the hits Slade doles out. He doesn't tire, despite how hard Slade is pushing him. It's been a long time since Slade fought someone who could keep up with him as well as Dick is; it's going to be a shame to kill him.

Especially since he didn't get to finish fucking him.

Eventually—far longer than Slade likes—Slade gets a grip on the kid's shoulder and _slams_ him into the wall before he can twist out of the hold. Dick's head smacks against the wall with a wince-worthy noise, and then the kid is blinking heavily, clearly dazed, his feet stumbling.

Slade doesn't waste time from there, taking advantage of the opportunity and taking the kid down, putting him on his stomach on the floor and binding his arms tightly behind his back. The kid shifts, a quiet sound of pain escaping him, and Slade settles his weight over Dick's hips, tucking his shins back to pin Dick's thighs.

Then he takes a few moments to pant and regain control of himself. He glances over to where the kid's blade sits a couple feet away, examining it. Incredible quality, with a golden hilt and one side serrated, the other smooth.

Yeah; that would've hurt like a bitch to take to the throat, and even more painful to pull out.

"So," Slade says, almost conversationally. "It seems you left out a few things about your profession."

Dick twists his head to the side, looking up at Slade out of the corner of his eye. He smiles, and while it's the same charming smile from before, his eyes are far sharper than they were in the bar. That was all warmth and seduction; this is pure ice.

"You're faster than I thought you'd be," Dick says, and it sounds like a compliment. "I mean, I knew about your enhancements, but my knife should've been in your neck by the time you managed to roll off me. Especially considering you were buried balls deep."

Slade grabs a handful of his hair and yanks his head up, a breathless sound escaping the kid as his neck is arched as far as it can go.

"Who sent you?" Slade demands.

"Who says this isn't personal?" Dick asks, voice coming out a little strained because of the position.

Slade nearly rolls his eye; it's just like back at the bar, Dick asking a stupid question. "It could be," he says, echoing his earlier words. "But you're not _nearly_ emotional enough for this to be a personal vendetta. So why don't you tell me who sent you, and you can die quick instead of painful."

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer _other_ activities?" The words are punctuated with a slow roll of the kid's hips, grinding up against Slade as much as he can in his pinned position. "Fighting really is the best foreplay, you know. Clearly hasn't killed your boner."

That is, unfortunately, true. Slade's always had a bit of a competency kink—as Adeline and Billy always enjoyed reminding him—and the kid sure knows his way around a fight. _Definitely_ can use a blade.

"Just so we're clear, you are aware that you did just try to kill me, correct?"

Dick smiles slowly. "What, you've never fucked someone who's tried to kill you? Those are always the best lays, in my book. You should _see_ the shit Red Hood and I get up to."

Huh, well that's a pleasant picture. But if the kid thinks he's going to be able to _distract_ Slade, he's severely demented.

Slade tightens his grip, drawing a hiss of pain out of Dick. "You're going to want to answer my question, kid. Who sent you?"

Dick remains silent, watching him out of the corner of his eye, resolve in the set of his jaw.

This is loyalty, Slade observes. If it were a paid contract Dick wouldn't look the way he does, like he's prepared to die for the secret. Slade is definitely one for never revealing his client's information, but it takes a _lot_ to kill him, and he can handle quite a bit of pain—if he actually thought someone was going to manage to kill him, he wouldn't die for his client. He honors his contracts, but not if his life is the price.

He can't spend their money if he's dead.

Could be League of Assassins, then. Ra's tends to inspire that level of devotion from his followers, and they're certainly excellently trained. Of course, Slade doesn't know _why_ Ra's would want to kill him, but the man is far more fickle than he'd like people to believe. It could be that he just decided Slade was too much of a potential threat to have out in the world. Or maybe it's a favor to someone. It doesn't much matter at the moment, without confirmation.

That's when he spots it. Right at the base of Dick's skull, in a spot that would usually be covered by his hair, is a small brand.

Slade jerks the kid's head up further, ignoring the yelp, and examines the brand. It's some kind of bird, he thinks. It looks like...an owl.

Well, shit.

He releases Dick's hair, letting his head thump back down against the floor. Dick immediately twists his neck to look at him again, something wary in his expression now.

"Why exactly does the Court of Owls want me dead?"

Dick offers him a guileless smile. "The what?"

Slade just looks at him, unimpressed. "Kid, I've got you dead to rights. You really want to die here? Naked in some random ass motel, throat slit with your own blade?"

Something flickers in the kid's eyes, something _vulnerable_ shining through before being locked away again.

"Isn't there anything you'd die for, Slade Wilson?" Dick asks softly.

Slade considers him.

"From what I remember about the Court," he muses, "they kidnap young and spend years brainwashing their captives until they have loyal little assassins. That really something you want to give your life for? A place that stole you and spent years hurting you?"

Dick stares at him, expression unreadable.

"How old were you when they took you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Humor me, then."

Dick swallows, and his eyes flick away from Slade's gaze, settling on the wall instead. "I was nine. And they didn't— _take_ me, they saved me. The Court is my home."

"Quite a few scars your _home_ gave you."

Dick's face twists in a scowl. "And you were a good father, were you? What would your children say about how you treated them?"

Slade knows he was very far from a perfect father. Maybe even nowhere close to a _good_ one. But he sure as hell didn't leave _scars_ on his boys, let alone how many Dick has.

"What—"

"Christ," Dick breathes shortly. "Just _end_ it already. If you're gonna do it, do it. Whatever this is, is a waste of time."

No, Slade doesn't think it is. He's met the Court's assassins before, seen how loyal they are, how they're barely more than brainwashed little husks. Capable of imitating emotion and pain, but over all with only one goal in mind, and that's to please the Court. Somewhere under all the conditioning he's sure there are still people there, people who could use help, but Slade's certainly never offered any aid. If a so-called 'Talon' ends up on the wrong end of his blade, he doesn't hold back.

 _This_ one, however—

Maybe it's because he has enough sentimentality to struggle to kill someone he was literally fucking minutes ago. Maybe it's because the kid clearly is showing signs of being an actual person and Slade is curious about how far it goes, what he could learn about such a secretive organization if he breaks one of their assassins. Plus it's always useful to have someone this skilled on his side.

Certainly helps that the kid really was a good fuck up until the murder attempt.

With the position they're currently in...well, it really would be a waste, wouldn't it?

"I'll tell you what," Slade says, "you spread those pretty little legs of yours again and we can negotiate whether or not you're going to die here."

Dick's eyes cut back to him, incredulous. He barks out a laugh. "Are you—are you _serious?"_

Slade only raises his eyebrows. Dick laughs again.

"Oh my god, you're really gonna let your cock do your decision-making? What am I talking about, of course you are, you're a man."

Slade decides to ignore that, and to not mention that Dick is obviously a man as well.

"Well?"

Dick examines him for a moment, smiling and looking bemused. Then he shifts slightly beneath Slade and cocks an eyebrow. "I can't exactly spread my legs with you pinnin' me like this, now can I?"

Slade cautiously lifts off of him, ready for Dick to lash out, try to fight—but instead the kid only pulls his knees up under himself, arching his back and wiggling his ass in the air.

Slade hums, pleased, and reaches out to squeeze Dick's ass, kneading at the flesh and drawing a quiet noise out of Dick. He takes his cock in hand and strokes himself; it doesn't take long to get himself completely hard again, and then he pushes right back inside of Dick's ass, groaning when he's once again fully sheathed inside of him.

Dick gives a soft moan and clenches around him. "You—" he says, panting a little, "—you really are something, aren't you?"

Slade smirks and snaps his hips forward, drawing a gasp out of the kid. He doesn't bother responding, instead fucking roughly in and out of the pliant body underneath him, pounding the kid into the ground again and again, drinking in the moans that spill from his lips.

"Touch me," Dick whines after a little while, bucking back against Slade. "C'mon, touch me, come _on—"_

"No," Slade growls. "No, you're gonna come on my cock, kid. So _do it."_

Dick shudders, his entire body shaking, and then he's groaning deep in his chest. His body is tight as a bowstring for a moment, and then he all but collapses, panting wetly against the floor as Slade chases his own end, fucking deep and hard until he too comes, burying himself as deep in the kid's ass as he can get.

He doesn't move for a little while, enjoying the way Dick feels around him, letting the post-orgasm bliss linger in a way he normally doesn't. Dick doesn't protest, staying exactly where he is and slowing his breathing until they're deep and even. His neck has a long trail of darkening hickeys, and their presence is amusing, considering he'd been in the process of leaving them when the kid decided to attempt to kill him.

Well, if things go his way he'll have plenty more opportunities to mark Dick up.

Slowly Slade pulls out, eye half-lidded as he watches his cum drip out of the kid's ass, staining the insides of his thighs. Slade swipes some of it up on two fingers and then leans forward, pushing them between Dick's parted lips.

Dick blinks, but then his eyelids flutter and he closes his mouth around Slade's fingers, sucking and running his tongue over them in a way that has desire sparking in Slade's gut all over again.

Slade gets to his feet with a small grunt, stretching and cracking his back. The crick in his neck is gone, at least. A small improvement, maybe, but an improvement nonetheless.

Dick rolls over onto his back, legs sprawling open, seemingly uncaring for the vulnerable position he's in. He only looks up at Slade placidly, slightly curious as he waits.

"So?" the kid prompts after a little while of just staring at each other. "What's the verdict?" He giggles, then, a grin crooking his lips. "Was I a good enough _fuck_ that I get to live?"

Slade heads over to where his clothes lay on the floor and idly pulls on his underwear and jeans. Dick watches him do it, craning his neck to keep him in line of sight but not moving otherwise.

If he's half as good as he should be, he should've been able to free his hands by now. He definitely would be able to reach his knife before Slade could lunge to close the distance between them. The kid is _choosing_ to stay the way he is, at Slade's mercy, and Slade couldn't possibly guess why.

Hm. Maybe something inside Dick knows Slade's right about the Court, and isn't too eager to go back to them.

Or maybe he's just fucked out and his body hasn't caught up yet.

Slade walks back over to him and swings a leg over, crouching down to hover over Dick's chest. The kid eyes him warily, and then those eyes go wide when Slade reaches down and wraps his hand around his throat, squeezing.

Dick thrashes, legs jerking up and heading for Slade's neck, trying to hook his ankles and throw Slade off. Slade bats one of his legs aside and then settles more heavily on the kid's chest, making him wheeze.

The fighting weakens. Fear flashes briefly across his face. Then his eyes roll back and his face slackens, quickly followed by his body until he's limp beneath Slade.

Slade keeps the hold for another few seconds before releasing it and standing up, brushing his hands off on his jeans.

"You're right," he tells Dick's unconscious form. "That really _was_ an excellent lay."

**Author's Note:**

> There _might_ be a second chapter of this, because I kind of love the idea of Slade attempting to un-brainwash Dick. It seems like it would be funny, and then they can have lots of hot sex. But we'll see if I ever actually do it.
> 
> Also just in case it's unclear, the Talons from the Court of Owls in this AU aren't undead beings but just assassins that were taken when they were children and raised to be loyal. Whether or not they're _enhanced,_ well, I leave that up to your interpretation for now ;)


End file.
